


Ping

by havenwolds



Series: Foundation [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Conversations, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havenwolds/pseuds/havenwolds
Summary: Hank wakes up.This is a direct sequel toProof of Concept. That one has sex in it.





	Ping

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly just feelings. You know I had to do it to em.
> 
> EDIT: OH also I have a Twitter. Please talk to me about gay robots. <https://twitter.com/havenwolds>

When Hank woke up on Sunday morning—earlier than he ever did, not even 8:00—he was alone.

He knew Connor had stayed for part of the night, had woken up briefly with the android’s weight wrapped around him, his LED stasis-pale in the dark bedroom. Hank stretched out a hand and ran it over the rumpled sheets. Connor must have slipped out a while ago; the only heat lingering in the bedding was Hank’s own.

He tried not to be too disappointed about it; this wasn’t his first rodeo, after all. An empty bed, maybe a “thanks for a fun time” note left in the kitchen. To be fair, he didn’t typically have to go back to sitting across from the person at work after that, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Connor considered their transaction complete. He’d greet Hank with the same friendly smile as always on Monday morning, and they’d never speak about this again.

Still, he had to admit, the thought of Connor ghosting in the night stung a bit. They’d stepped into the lover roles almost without thinking—intimate lovers, lovers who fell asleep tangled up in each other. Falling for Connor had come easily, more easily than he would have considered himself capable of. Like falling into a pool—all you had to do was step off the edge, and gravity would take care of the rest.

Potentially putting all this back into the box twisted his heart in ways he didn’t care to admit.

He was pulling on his discarded boxers when he heard the soft footfalls in the hallway. The bedroom door eased open and Connor started to enter, then faltered, one foot in Hank’s bedroom and the other still in the hall. “Oh, you’re awake.” He hesitated in the doorway, as if not sure whether he should come in. “I walked and fed Sumo— I didn’t want to disturb you. I hope that’s all right.”

Hank stared. Connor’s hair was still slightly mussed, though he had clearly made an attempt to straighten it, and he was in his stocking feet. The sight of him flooded Hank’s veins with relief, prickling over his skin.

“Hank?”

He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Thanks.”

A silence passed; Connor shifted in the doorway. “Can I make you some coffee?”

“Maybe later. Just... come sit down.”

Connor obeyed, putting a chaste amount of space between himself and Hank as he sat on the edge of the bed, posture straight and hands folded in his lap. There was a wall between them that hadn’t been there last night, that Hank wasn’t sure he should breach.

Thankfully, Connor was the one who spoke first. “About last night,” he began, thumbs twiddling. “It was... more than I expected.”

Hank didn’t have to ask what “more” meant. He blew out a breath, grateful he didn’t have to be the one to bring it up, that it hadn’t all been in his head. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Hank, are we... Do you...”

Okay, yeah. They were doing this now. Hank waited him out, trying to keep his face impassive.

A beat passed; two. Connor closed his eyes. He was facing the floor. “I’m sorry. This is difficult for me.”

“You’re all right, Connor. Just walk me through it.”

Connor nodded, slowly, mostly to himself. “I obviously don’t have much experience in this area, but last night, with you, I felt...” He trailed off. Closed his mouth, reopened it. Hank wished he was sitting on the other side so he could see his LED. “...cared for. It was nice.”

Hank’s face softened. “Yeah.”

“Is that typical in these types of experiences?”

“Sometimes. Depends on the people. How they feel about each other.”

Connor lifted his eyes and turned them on Hank, round and sincere. “And how do you feel about me, Lieutenant?”

Even though he had been pretty sure he knew what was coming, clammy fear lanced through him at being so directly put on the spot. If it registered on his face, Connor didn’t show any signs of acknowledging it, his eyes fixed patiently on Hank.

“Like I want you,” Hank finally said weakly, and God help him, he did.

“Sexually? Or romantically?” Connor couldn’t even do Hank the favor of sounding apprehensive himself; his voice was steady, like he was asking Hank if he wanted cream or sugar in his coffee.

“Yeah. Both. All of it.”

The most miserably tense five seconds of Hank’s life passed without Connor responding, until Hank’s brain finally caught up with him and he buried his face in one hand, squeezing his temples hard. “Shit, god damn it, Connor. Forget I said that. Just... forget it.”

Connor’s expression was placid, but his eyebrows twitched inward and up, a ghost of that puppy-dog face Hank was weak to. “Is that really what you want?”

Hank pulled his hand from his eyes down his face, dragging the flesh with it in an expression of utter suffering. _What I **want** is to go back to bed and take another stab at this day in, say, twelve hours_ , he thought. He couldn’t live in a universe where he had to work side-by-side with a partner he’d blurted out his desire for and been rejected by; it was so much worse than a simple one-night stand. God, _so_ much worse.

Next to him, Connor was looking at the floor again, brow furrowed in thought. “...I’d prefer not to. If it's all the same to you.”

Hank let his hand drop back to his lap. His voice was flat. “Prefer not to what?”

“Forget.”

Straightening his shoulders, Hank twisted his face in a skeptical frown as he finally looked back at Connor. “Okay, is this you being literal about not wanting to wipe your memory because it’s ‘unpleasant’, or—“

“Hank.”

A hand found Hank’s chest and then Connor was leaning in to kiss him gently, so gently. Hank felt himself sag as, without thinking, he reached up to cradle Connor’s face. He felt heavy, his limbs full of sand, every muscle that had apparently been taut with tension now relaxing.

Connor inched his body toward him until he closed the gap between them and kept going, sliding a leg over Hank’s thighs to crawl into his lap, forcing Hank to lean back to balance Connor’s weight. “I want you, too,” Connor said in between their lips meeting. “I want you.”

It took every ounce of Hank’s willpower not to roll Connor back into the mattress and touch him until he couldn’t see straight. “Connor, wait, hang on. Hang on.” He pressed slightly against Connor’s chest with a broad palm to separate them, looping his other arm around the android’s waist to keep him steady on his lap.

Their faces were so close together, and Hank took the opportunity to acquaint himself further with Connor’s eyes; he knew that beyond them were cameras, the delicate inner workings of him, but all he registered was their depth, their liquid warmth. He traced the outline of Connor’s face with an exploratory thumb. “Normally I wouldn’t put this on you, but, uh... I’m kinda already in pretty deep here. If you’re looking for something casual, I’m probably not your guy.”

Connor’s eyes were ever-so-slightly restless—exploring Hank’s face, too, it looked like. “I’m not... ‘looking for something casual.’ Or rather, I want _you_ , in whatever form that takes.” He kissed Hank’s forehead, the corner of his mouth; then his eyes drifted downward in thought. “However... I’ve never been a romantic partner before. It’s not even close to what I was made for. It may take me some time to learn to be... what you’re used to.”

“Connor, what I’m _used_ to is passing out on the floor alone with my dog.”

Connor’s laugh was a soft puff of air against Hank’s cheek. “You know what I mean. ...I care for you a great deal. And I’d like to learn.”

Hank started to shift his hands around him, one sliding over the curve of Connor’s ass, and the one supporting his waist slipping under the loose shirttail of his button-down to trace the small of his back. “Well. I can think of a few things to teach you.”

They returned to kissing slowly, despite Hank’s roaming hands; both of them were unhurried, each kiss gracefully flowing into the next like this was their new natural state. When had this happened? In some ways it felt like nothing had changed. One small piece of the puzzle slotting into place, and suddenly the entire picture looked different.

Suddenly Connor stiffened and for a split second Hank was alarmed— _shit, can you shut down an android by making out?_ —until he felt the android shudder with laughter and saw his giant, cock-blocker of a dog nosing into Connor’s socked foot where it hung off the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said with a genuinely apologetic smile. “I didn’t think to close the door.”

Hank groaned, dropping his head to Connor’s shoulder, but then he was grinning as well; Connor petted his hair with one hand and Sumo’s head with the other. _Just a couple of dumb, lovesick animals, eh boy_ , Hank thought. The petting did feel good, though. “Well, now that the mood is ruined, tell me something. Was this seriously not part of your agenda when you asked me to have sex with you?”

“I didn’t ask you to have _sex_ with me.”

“Well, I dunno what you’d call it, but question stands.”

Connor’s hand slowed, threading through Hank’s thick hair. “You mean a relationship?”

“...Yeah. A relationship.”

“It was... a consideration.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I never had any expectations beyond what I explicitly asked,” Connor insisted, and his expression was genuine. “If you’d decided that you weren’t interested in anything beyond our initial arrangement, that was an outcome I was prepared to accept.”

“You know you could’ve just _talked_ to me.”

Connor tipped his chin downward, hesitating. His hands came to rest on Hank’s shoulders. “I thought this might be... easier. More straightforward. I didn’t know how to approach it, and I don’t always express myself well.”

Hank couldn’t really judge him. He wasn’t exactly a paragon of using his words himself. “Yeah, well. That makes two of us.” He reached a hand up to take one of Connor’s from his shoulder, intertwining their fingers. “How long have you felt like this, exactly?”

“Since that night I picked you up for the Eden Club.”

He felt a rush of blood draining from his face. “Christ, Connor. That long? You should’ve _said_ something. Hell, you just made _me_ say it. _And_ you left me hanging, you bastard.”

He’d meant that last part as a playful jab, but Connor lowered his eyes in chagrin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t _apologize_ , just— shit, Connor, _I’m_ the one that’s sorry. For not realizing.” Hank tried not to focus on the thought too much; it sent his head reeling, all that _time_ , all those nights in the kitchen with Connor, on the couch, wanting him, while Connor was within arm’s reach, wanting him back.

They sat together like that in silence, clinging. Sumo had laid down on the floor at their feet. Almost experimentally, Connor lifted their joined hands, flexing their fingers together. “If you were an android, I could just interface with you,” he murmured. “And you would have known.”

“Welcome to humanity, kid. Gotta do it the analog way.”

Connor hummed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Hank’s. “Seems fairly inefficient.”

“Don’t knock it 'til you try it.” He met Connor’s lips again, kissing him into a daze, one after another. They were still joined in an imitation of an android interface; Hank squeezed Connor’s hand and felt him squeeze back. “But your thing still kinda works.”

Connor smiled.


End file.
